


A Glimmer of Nature

by subito



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Anthropomorphic, F/M, the Westminster Bubble does things to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5613256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subito/pseuds/subito
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zac has a thing for nature. Natures also has a thing for him, apparently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Glimmer of Nature

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gildinwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gildinwen/gifts).



> written for gildinwen on LJ for the Lolitics Secret Santa Exchange 2013.

Entering the Westminster bubble often feels to Zac like he is actually physically entering it, like crossing the bridge is in itself an act that sends him to a different world. A world that is still inside the reality of what most people would perceive as the actual world but also a world that has its own laws – of etiquette and clothing and sometimes, it seems, even time. 

There is, of course, no actual physical barrier. The point when the feeling of being immersed into that world overcomes him is different every time. This morning it happened when he walking through the curious glimmer the heat had created on the ground. 

Now, at the end of his day, Zac’s eyes wander to the gleaming water of the Thames and the different layers of hot air above it that create a similar kind of magic glimmer there. He is glad to have escaped the Portcullis Building until tomorrow. When he had opened the door to the outside world earlier during a break, he had run into a thick wall of heavy air but still been just as glad to get out as he is now. 

Like before, when he had seen people flocking to the patches of greener, he, too, feels the urge to sit down and soak up as much of the weather as possible. He had made his way across a lawn and around a corner, and although he usually has a tendency to get lost around the vast complex that is the Palace of Westminster, he has never had any problems remembering the route to the little sheltered place from which he can see the Thames. He adjusts one of the sleeves that has slid down his arm and gets his mobile from his bag. 

When he had sat down in the grass earlier, he had stretched luxuriously and then hastily rolled up his sleeves. His arms had welcomed the warmth of the sun and he had closed his eyes while rolling his head to get rid of the tension in his neck. Just being out like this usually did a lot for him physically and mentally. He had also taken off his shoes and socks, then opened the two top buttons of his shirt and just let himself fall back into the slightly crisp grass, facing the cloudless sky. Some time later he had been woken by a soft breeze that had found its way inside his shirt and it had made him shiver despite the high temperatures. 

Zac ‘s current position isn’t much different. The sun hangs rather low in the sky and he tries to shake off the slight state of drowsiness brought on by work and heat. His mobile shows a time that indicates he should get going but after he puts it back into the bag, he allows himself a few more minutes of taking in the world with closed eyes. 

Zac concentrates on his fingers that seem to be feeling the grass, feeling and recognizing its qualities, for the first time in weeks. The initial sensation of fragile crispness hides the strength of each blade of grass and the fact that they’re bursting with life, not burnt by the sun but encouraged, nurtured. Zac flattens his hands in the air and lowers them until the insides of his palms touch just the tips of the blades. He slowly moves them along that invisible line and his fingers start to tingle every time he barely comes into contact with the green halms. 

With his eyes still closed, he sits up on his feet with bent knees. This way, his hands can still feel the grass but his feet can as well. The toes are very sensitive from hours of being tucked away in socks and shoes; every new sensation tickles and awakens a form of nostalgia. A feeling of happiness spreads through Zac and he can feel the smile on his face as another breeze washes over him. 

Then he exhales and the centre of balance seems to shift because he falls to the side and back. Instead of fighting it, he lets it happen and silently laughs to himself. More of the warm wind is gliding over his skin and Zac props himself up on his elbows, head thrown back. The wind is pulling on the loose bits of his shirt now and when Zac opens his eyes, he is greeted by an altogether unexpected view.

A woman’s face is looking back at him. He should jerk back and demand to know what’s going on but his state of relaxation mixed with the calmness that radiates from her only cause him to smile. The woman returns the smile and now Zac realises that she isn’t sitting next to him but on top of him. Still, he doesn’t move but his eyes focus on her fingers which are playing with a loose bit of his shirt. He doesn’t feel much of her weight or even manages to make out the outlines of her body. The harder he concentrates on them the fuzzier they seem to become. 

Zac sinks back down with a sigh and closes his eyes again. He thinks he should maybe drink something and that the heat must affect his brain somehow. But when he opens his eyes after a short while, the woman is still there. 

Her fingers are touching his forearm now, his wrists, his fingers, his fingertips – and when she slides their hands together Zac has to blink at the sensation because touching her feels all too familiar. He tentatively raises his other hand to touch her leg that he now feels warm against his side. The tingling feeling of touching the blades of grass returns and he flattens his hand like he did before to softly press his palm into her flesh. 

Her smile widens and she takes the other hand as well and intertwines their fingers as she leans down. Zac registers her smelling of flowers a split second before that information is overridden by warm lips that press against his own. He returns the kiss without hesitation, and with him opening his mouth, he suddenly finds all of her coming to life. He doesn’t only feel her fingers now, her lips and her legs. He can feel her belly against his torso and her hair against his cheeks, her toes against the inside of his legs and her breasts against his chest. 

She slides one of her legs between his and continues to kiss him, her tongue tracing the inside of his upper lip before returning to another deep and long kiss. Their hands find other places on each other’s bodies - the curve of her spine, the softness of his hair – when Zac starts to feel her in another place as well. She is slowly rocking on his leg, rubbing herself against the fabric of his trousers and rubbing herself against him where he only now realises he has become very hard. 

A moan crosses his lips, parts them, leaves them open for another as she deliberately grinds down a bit higher and starts to set a rhythm both of them won’t be able to keep up for long. One of his hands finds her bottom and presses her down against him even more. His other hand is stroking her side and when he opens his eyes he sees the pleasure on her face. The heat radiating off her hits him as she brings his head up to her breasts and he closes his eyes again to kiss and suck at whatever is offered to him. 

When her moans become more audible and one of her hands is fisting his shirt, he feels a wetness soaking his trousers and there is no telling where it originated. Zac’s chest is heaving and his arms fall from the woman’s body to the cooler ground. Between his own loud breathing and the blood rushing through his veins he doesn’t register much. He feels both weightless and nailed to the ground when another breeze glides over his body. 

Zac opens his eyes as soon as he can breathe normally again. He is half-afraid to find the woman looking back at him, half-afraid to find her gone. The latter is true but it leaves him none the wiser. All he does know is that there is an uncomfortable wet patch on his trousers and it isn’t from sitting down in the grass. Not exactly. Zac gets up and tries to cover it with his bag before looking around to see if anyone at all might be there. A sigh of relief escapes his lips before he tries to find the quickest way out. 

The onset of darkness is a welcome friend when he hurries down the bridge and sees the last specks of colour mirrored on the waves. The ground in front of him is clear, with only his own exaggerated shadow to keep him company. Today, he really can’t leave the bubble fast enough.


End file.
